


Fix This?

by Adira_Tyree



Series: Release the CRACK [2]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Cracky, F/M, Fallout Kink Meme, Guns, Hands, gun maintenance, hands kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:22:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2145438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adira_Tyree/pseuds/Adira_Tyree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six asks Joshua to get handsy with her guns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fix This?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Coyota!Anon for letting me add in the awesome art pertaining to my fill! 
> 
> Here's a link to the original prompt (and other folk's fills!) on the Meme: [[x](http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/5646.html?thread=12929294#t12929294)]

 

Six handed the gun over to him. “Yeah, the uh… the barrel has been jamming… I think,” she said, watching as he tore the gun down to its basic components with ease. “Something about the slidey bit, maybe.”

“Strange… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use a gun, Courier,” he said, staring down the empty barrel. “It seems fine, though.” He handed it back to her, eyes showing his confusion.

“Oh, uh…” Six fished around in her messenger bag, searching for another. “Maybe it was this one then,” she said, handing over a very weathered looking 10mm and dropping the .45 back in its place.

Joshua watched her face carefully as he took the gun from her. With a slight shake of his head, he broke down the second gun. “That would be less surprising. When was the last time you cleaned this one?”

“Uh…” Six struggled for words as Joshua ran his fingers over the gun’s surfaces. _Oh god._ “Possibly maybe sometime before I got shot in the head, but I can’t say for sure because I don’t remember anything before then.” The words tumbled out quickly, smashing together as she focused on _not_ talking about the way his hands caressed a gun like it was made of glass and precious stones.

Joshua almost laughed, huffing his amusement. “Come, let’s get you out of the sun and I’ll show you how to break it down and clean it. You seem as though you might soon be suffering a heat stroke.”

“Oh.” The heat wasn’t bothering her at all, in fact, but his words only made her flush more. He turned, and she followed him into the cave. “I mean, you don’t have to really explain it to me or anything. I’m more of a stabby, smashy, explodey kind of person. Knives, chainsaws, grenades… very large rocks… Whatever’s handy.” _Oh fuck, hands._

“If you plan to own a gun, you should know how to care for it.” Joshua sat down at his picnic table, still covered in guns from the day before, gesturing for her to sit across from him. He wasted no time, laying out each of the parts as soon as she sat down.

She could hear him walking her through the process, but the words blurred together and fuzzed over. The way he picked up each piece, nimble fingers toying with them. Something about grooves inside the barrel?

“Oh God,” she muttered, covering her mouth with one hand as he pressed his thumb against the gun’s firing pin and clicked it a few times.

“Sorry?” he asked, looking up.

“Uh, nothing,” she said, forcing a cough. “Sorry. Said I had to cough. Dry air. Heat.” _Hands. Fingers._

“Of course,” he said, his eyes dropping back to his work as though nothing had happened. “Now to clean the channel, you need to be careful.” Joshua pulled a box from under the table and laid three new items on the table alongside his handful of small tools: a box of q-tips, a shot glass, and a half-empty bottle of vodka. After filling the shot glass with alcohol, he dipped one of the q-tips in it, saturating the tip.

“This part must be done gently,” he said, glancing up at the Courier. She quickly stopped chewing on her lip, opening her eyes a little wider in attempts to look alert. “If any of the cotton stays in the channel, it could damage it or cause a jam.”

Six held her breath the entire time Joshua cleaned… _whatever that slidey top bit is…_ Watching each of the q-tips slip down inside this little hole and that one. _Wait, paying attention. Something about an extractor? Safety? Oh fuck._

Joshua picked up a tiny little piece ( _that’s almost definitely, probably the extractor_ ) and wiped it down with a piece of cotton he’d pulled from somewhere, running the tiny thing between his fingers. Satisfied, he picked up the barrel and a fat, circular brush.

_Oh God. Stop talking about rubbing things, oh Jesus—_

“—to flare and grip into the metal. The fit should be tight all the way through.” The alcohol went away and was replaced by some other solution, this one looking homemade. Another piece of cotton disappeared down the barrel, coated in the new solution. “It’s simple enough to make, and cheap to buy. You’ll want to have a steady supply around. The barrel should be quite wet from this part. Let it soak for a while.”

“Rods. Plungers. Gentle. Soaking.” Six took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shakily. “Got it.” She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his hands. “I have another one that could use your hands. Help. Use your help. A gun, I mean. I think.”

She wasn’t sure, but Six thought Joshua might be smiling.

 


End file.
